"When you put your hand in a flowing stream, you touch the last that has gone before and the first of what is still to come." —Leonardo daVinci

It begins. Somewhere. An insignificant trickle of water.

And it changes.

And it grows up, andgathers a history, andfinds its way into atlasesand maps, until it finally reaches the sea, and vanishes into its vastness.

You might think it is of no importance. That it does not matter. But you follow where it leads...

Rivers have always been very important to humankind. They've been explored. They've been navigated. They've been called gods. They've been blessed and cursed and venerated and used and enjoyed and exploited and polluted since the beginning of recorded history.

They've been sung about and dreamed about and followed on epic journeys of discovery. The capitals of empires have risen on banks of rivers—and so have a thousand fishing villages, and river landings, and water mills.

There is only one River. Really. And it's all of them. Every river is different—and yet they're all the same, vast and full of life and death and mystery and history and adventure and quiet dreams.